


It's Quiet Uptown

by thekitgregoryblog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Feels, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Oops, POV Bucky Barnes, but ill add one more, i feel if i add more tags it'll give stuff away, okay two more, steve & bucky have a kid and its cute, until its not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekitgregoryblog/pseuds/thekitgregoryblog
Summary: Steve and Bucky decide to have a child, and experience things they never expected to face.





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be a series, and it’s written by the number of months/years as things happen in the story line. I would add a better description but to add anything more would give away the biggest plot twist of all. (it's also up on my tumblr @thebuttplug !!)

“What if we had a kid?”

The question struck ice into Bucky’s veins. He looked over at Steve leaning against the kitchen counter with the Sunday paper in his hands and his morning coffee held just beneath his lips, and wondered how the hell those words came out of his mouth without so much as a quiver. Bucky half expected Steve to raise his eyes and smile at him, letting him know that it was only a joke, no need for him to get upset. His stomach dropped when all Steve did was flip to the comics section. 

“Are you being serious?”

At those words, Steve lifted his gaze to examine Bucky’s expression and Bucky knew that he could probably sense his apprehension. He always could, it seemed like. No matter what the problem with Bucky was, Steve somehow knew what it was and how to fix it. He was practically a goddamn miracle worker. 

Steve shrugged. “Yeah.” He took a sip of his coffee and studied Bucky’s face as he spoke his next words. “I think it would help with the loneliness some.”

Bucky tried to keep his face impassive as his thoughts ran wild. How long had Steve been thinking about this and why the hell hadn’t he mentioned it before now? “We’re not lonely. We have each other.” 

“You know what I mean, Buck.” Steve’s eyes softened at Bucky’s tone. He stepped away from the counter and made his way to stand behind Bucky so that he could wrap his arms gently around Bucky’s middle. “Everyone from our time is...you know…”

Bucky knew Steve had a point, but the fear coiling in his stomach made him want to shut the idea down all together. He melted back into Steve, resting his head against the taller man’s shoulder and said meekly, “Sam and Nat are our family, so are all the rest. Wanda, Clint, even Scott-”

“But what about a piece of just you and me.” Bucky shuddered as he felt Steve’s lips ghost down his neck, pressing kisses after every other word or so. He mentally cursed as he felt one of Steve’s hands slip underneath his sweatshirt and dance ever so lightly over his abdomen, knowing that Steve was only doing it because he knew how it made Bucky putty in his hands. A small part of his brain screamed that he should move away now before it was too late, but the thought was quickly extinguished by Steve’s voice whispering in his ear, “A little slice of family...just for us.”

Bucky swallowed, trying to ignore how good it felt with Steve’s hands on his stomach, and let the thought mull over in his head. Having a family was something he knew he always wanted, even before everything had happened. He’d imagined waking up with Steve and hearing the little pitter patter of feet on the floor, or watching bright smiles as their kids opened presents on Christmas morning. He wanted to have that domestic, happy life with Steve… but that had been then, and this was now. And Bucky was terrified that who he’d become was not the type of someone who could handle that sort of life anymore. 

Though,  who was he to deny Steve the right to that life, a life that he too probably wanted? The thought still struck a million kinds of fear into Bucky’s very core but they were overshadowed by the image of Steve’s glowing face as he held a child in his arms, his laugh lighting the room with joy and it was enough. If Steve wanted a child, it was something Bucky would give him. Especially after everything they had both been through. To see that look on Steve’s face for the first time since before the war, since before Brooklyn and their dingy apartment nights, it was the least Bucky could do. 

That was the moment when Bucky flipped himself around in Steve’s arms and pressed his lips to the man he loves, that image of Steve’s smiling face painted in his mind. 

  
“Okay. Let’s do it.”


	2. Two Months Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are going to be a bit short, but they'll get longer as the story goes on! just a little side note :)

They agreed to use a surrogate on one condition: they had to use Steve’s sperm.

“Bucky, I don’t get why it’s such a big deal. We can use yours just as easily-”

“We already decided on using yours. Plus, it’s easier for you to orgasm under pressure.” Bucky flipped through the TV channels in the hopes of ending their conversation and focused all his attention on the task. The last time this particular topic of conversation came up, he thought they’d agreed on using Steve’s spunk and that would be the end of that. Though Steve, to Bucky’s complete and utter annoyance, apparently decided that he wasn’t done talking about the subject. 

Steve chuckled a bit as he laid his head in Bucky’s lap, gazing up at him playfully. “I think a few minutes in the bedroom could prove you wrong.”

“Watch it, Rogers.” Despite himself, Bucky’s cheeks flushed at the thought and he gently nudged Steve’s cheek with the tv remote, prompting another little chuckle to fall from his lips. They sat in silence for a few more minutes with Bucky’s hand lazily stroking Steve’s hair and Steve’s fingers toying with the hem of Bucky’s faded t-shirt, before Steve so gracefully shattered it by opening his goddamn mouth. 

“If you’re really worried about bedroom performance, one in five men struggle with-”

Bucky let out a groan, running his hand over his face in frustration. “ _ Steve _ .”

“It’s actually pretty common. I bet if you Google it, you could figure out ways to cope-”

“Can we drop it? Besides, it’s not even about that.” Bucky flipped through a couple more tv channels, anxiously trying to get rid of the jittery clump of fear inside his stomach that seemed to lay dormant and flare up every time Steve tried to talk him into giving his sperm. Steve, using his built in “Bucky’s upset” detectors, frowned a bit and sat up, giving him a concerned look that Bucky tried his best to ignore. When a minute went by without so much as a glance away from the TV, Steve reached out a hand to touch Bucky’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over the skin right above the line of stubble Bucky had been meaning to shave for the past few days. 

“Then what’s it about?” Bucky bent his head down at Steve’s words, not liking how the gentle concern in them melted his resolve so fucking efficiently. He wanted to tell Steve how he felt but the words rang stupid enough in his head that he couldn’t even imagine how ridiculous they would sound out loud. He managed to keep up his act of silent rebellion for a few more minutes before Steve’s gentle gaze and comforting touch were enough to crumble his determination.

Not making eye contact, Bucky swallowed. “I...I want the baby to be like you."

His sentence hung in the air while Steve took in what he’d said. It was so silent for a moment that Bucky actually thought Steve might’ve left the room, but when he looked over to check, he saw a shit-eating grin spreading across Steve’s face. A bubble of annoyance built up in his stomach, and he opened his mouth to tell the dumbass off for making him feel stupid, but before he could even speak, Steve tackled him back down into the couch and smothered Bucky’s face with kisses until Bucky was laughing so hard he thought he might pee. 

“That was probably the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Steve nuzzled the curve of Bucky’s neck with his nose, Bucky feeling the blond’s lips ghost over his pulse point with a smile. 

Bucky snorted. “What about the first time I told you I loved you?”

Steve gently nipped the sensitive skin behind Bucky’s ear and giggled when he yelped. “Even sweeter.”

“I guess I keep getting sweeter with age, huh?” 

  
Steve leaned up on his elbows so that he was above Bucky and gave him a smile that lit up the world from the inside out. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man.”


	3. Six Months Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to clarify that the time frame isn't keeping track old the baby is going to be, but outlining the time from the first day they even discussed the topic. I thought that it might be confusing so I wanted to let you guys know.

When it came time to find out what gender the baby was going to be, Bucky decided fifteen minutes before they were supposed to leave for the appointment that he wasn’t going to go. He could tell Steve was concerned, but thankfully he didn’t ask any questions. All Steve did was kiss Bucky’s temple on the way out the door. There wasn’t really a set reason as to why he didn’t want to go, but that same knot of fear tightened at the thought of sitting in a tiny hospital room with Steve and the woman, Lena, who was carrying their child. Ultimately, it was Bucky who even agreed to having Lena be the surrogate because she seemed almost as kind as Steve, which was a very impressive feat, and that she seemed so eager to help them. He’d heard stories when researching their type of situation of surrogate mothers backing out at the last second, claiming their own right to the baby and Bucky couldn’t bear to put Steve, or himself, through that. 

For the couple hours Steve was gone, Bucky turned on Netflix and binge-watched  _ Friends _ while nibbling on a piece of pizza left over from last night’s dinner. Their apartment felt unusually empty, even though Bucky had grown accustomed to being alone, and the foreign sensation made him pause. Before that moment, eating snacks in front of the tv was enough to keep him occupied and their apartment was tiny enough that he never felt the need for extra company. But now, his heart nagged for conversation and it made Bucky shift uncomfortably on the couch. He told himself that he was just extra eager for Steve to come home, but even the smallest part of his brain knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Bucky wasn’t really sure whether he wanted the baby to be a boy or a girl. He didn’t really have a preference, but he wondered if Steve did. It hadn’t occurred to him that he probably could’ve asked Steve way in advance before the day came when they were supposed to find out, but until that moment, the outcome wasn’t that important to him. He’d been more worried about how their lives were going to change and if would be for the worse or for the better. Bucky was counting on the better, even though sometimes his stomach told him otherwise. He still hadn’t completely admitted to Steve that he was afraid of being a parent and it was starting to eat at him from the inside out. If he told Steve, there was a good chance that Steve would want to pause the whole operation, or even stop it completely, and Bucky knew that there was no way that could happen when they were this far invested. Besides, Bucky saw how Steve’s eyes lit up every time Lena called with updates about the baby or they received texts from her with pictures of the baby’s ultrasound. He wouldn’t be able to stand the guilt from ruining any part of Steve’s experience. 

He was almost finished watching The One with the Embryos (how fucking ironic) when the telltale sound of Steve’s keys in the lock grabbed his attention. His body tensed as he turned to look at Steve entering through the door, his grip on the remote tightening by the second and he locked his gaze onto Steve’s face for any clues about the baby. For one startlingly horrific moment, his felt his whole body tense because instead of the bright grin he expected, Steve’s face was blank. Hundreds of thoughts ran through his mind. _ Did Lena have a miscarriage? Did the baby have some sort of life-hindering defect _ ? He leapt up out of his seat from the panic. 

Steve startled at that, his face regaining some sort of expression once again and Bucky felt his heart leap into his throat.  _ God, Steve, say something for fuck’s sake! _

And then, Steve broke into a grin. 

“We’re having a girl, Buck.”

Bucky wanted to collapse right there in front of him from the  _ relief _ of it all, but before he had the chance, Steve swept him up in his arms and twirled him in a circle. Bucky wrapped his arms securely around Steve’s shoulders and buried his face in Steve’s neck, a happy sort of cry escaping his throat. Sweeping waves of emotions suddenly poured through him with an intensity so great it brought tears to his eyes, and when he looks back at Steve, he could see waterworks in his as well. 

Steve rested his forehead against Bucky’s and whispered, “A strong, healthy baby girl.”

Bucky laughed, sniffling afterwards and cupping Steve’s face in his hands. He pulled back and kissed the tears away from under those baby blues he loved so much, happiness flowing through his every pore, and said, “I can’t believe we did it.”

  
Steve just twirled Bucky again, sending him into gales of laughter, before sitting them down on the couch with Bucky in his lap, and Bucky swore, he never felt as fucking perfect as he did in that moment when Steve pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and said, “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of this life with you.”


	4. One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now you officially get to meet the baby! let me know what you think of the name :)

Bucky was shaking so hard he could barely hold himself up straight. Thank God Steve was standing next to him and has his tree trunk arms around Bucky’s waist to keep him from falling on his ass. He could tell Steve was shaking slightly too, but he seemed to have a hell of a lot better grip on himself than Bucky did, and Bucky was glad that at least someone had their shit together at the moment. 

Because there she was, wrapped in a little pink blanket and sleeping peacefully in the nursery next to all of the other crying obnoxious newborns, which Bucky considered to be quite impressive in the grand scheme of things. 

Bucky had expected to feel a pit of fear in his stomach the first time he saw their daughter, for the knot to grow ten times in size and cause him to go running off down the hallway with the intention of throwing up his lunch. But when they walked in to view the nursery and were told which baby was theirs, his heart swelled with this feeling of absolute  _ love _ that he didn’t know existed until that very second. He’d tightened his grip on Steve’s hand as they walked closer and he couldn’t help the stupid smile on his face when he saw her little nose twitch in her sleep. 

Steve let out a breath besides him, his arm wrapping around Bucky’s side. “Wow…”

“Yeah.” Bucky leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder and felt at peace for the first time in a while. “Wow.”

“Excuse me, but which one is yours?” Bucky raised his head to meet the gaze of a young nurse standing by the doorway to the nursery, smiling expectantly at them. He looked up at Steve and opened his mouth to speak, but Steve beat him to it, pointing his finger at the little case where their daughter laid sleeping with a quiet, “That’s her.”

The nurse nodded and ducked back into the nursery, walking over to their daughter and picking her up with careful arms. Bucky felt Steve’s arm tighten around his side just a fraction and he could even feel his own heart start to rapidly speed up in pace. The nurse exited the nursery and as she walked over to where they stood dumbfounded by this little miracle, Bucky had the faintest thought that he might pass out right then and there. 

With a soft smile, the nurse stopped in front of Bucky and asked, “Would you like to hold her?”

There was a split second of hesitation before Bucky, unable to speak at the moment, nodded and held out his arms. Thoughts shot through his head like gunfire, worries about if he didn’t hold her properly or if his metal arm would be too cold and cause her to cry. Before he could act on any of them, the nurse placed her in Bucky’s hold and every anxiety he had seemed to vanish. It was only him, Steve, and a little pink bundle that tied their whole world together. 

“What should we name her?” Steve’s voice floated into his ear and Bucky could barely take his eyes off her as he rocked her gently back and forth. A name had been the last thing on his mind, but now, actually seeing her in the flesh and experiencing all the emotions that came with it, one popped into his mind with such certainty that he barely even registered himself saying before it came out of his mouth. 

“Margaret.” Bucky looked up at Steve then, reading his expressions as he finished. “So she can have some of Peggy’s strength, maybe be a bit like her.”

Steve was quiet for a moment and Bucky worried that he’d crossed a line with his suggestion, but then Steve pressed a light kiss to his temple and whispered, his voice sounding choked from the threat of tears. “Peggy would’ve liked that.”

It was then that a little sneeze broke through their moment and they both looked down to see the baby staring up at them with wide eyes, as if the sneeze had surprised her herself. Steve let out a small laugh, gently taking her from Bucky’s arms and grinned down at her with a look in his eyes that Bucky swore was familiar. With a jolt, he realized it was the same look that he imagined Steve wearing as he held their child during their first conversation, and it brought a fresh batch of tears to his eyes. 

With a teasing look to Bucky and a gentle tap to the baby’s nose, Steve cooed softly, “Well, excuse you, Miss Margaret Sarah Rogers Barnes.”

  
And for the first time since before Hydra and the war, Bucky felt completely and utterly whole again.


	5. Two Years Later

Bucky poured himself another cup of coffee as he heard Maggie’s wail pierce the air for the ump-teenth time that hour. She’d been fighting a cold over the past couple days and it finally built up to the point where she couldn’t sleep because of it. Which in turn meant that Steve and himself wouldn’t be getting much sleep either. 

Bucky’d been the first to wake up to Maggie coughing and he’d bolted out of bed, the new parent instinct in him kicking into gear as he rushed down the hallway to where she lay in her crib, crying in between coughs and red-faced from fever. He picked her up and rubbed her back, bouncing her softly as he made his way into the bathroom to grab the cough medicine prescribed by the pediatrician. Trying to suck the bright orange liquid up into the little syringe the doctor gave them proved to be quite difficult when he had squirming 13 month old shrieking into his ear every other second, and by the time he actually accomplished the task, he barely had enough energy to fight with Maggie to even get it into her mouth. 

He had started developing a pounding headache just as Steve walked into the room, annoyingly awake and fresh faced for someone at 3 in the morning. He sighed in relief as he passed Maggie’s wiggling form over into Steve’s waiting embrace, looking at the two of them wearily and slumping into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Steve, being ever so patient, took Maggie’s screaming in stride and just paced about the room, humming a lullaby under his breath. Watching Steve with Maggie always looked so natural, and even though everything about the morning was driving him up a wall, he couldn’t help but love them even more for it. 

Until Maggie let out a particularly shrill cry and Bucky decided that it was best to reconvene downstairs.

Bucky sipped at the lukewarm liquid in his favorite mug, one that Sam had gotten him for his birthday that read  _ #2 Dad _ across the front, and finally allowed the tension in his shoulders to release as he heard Maggie’s screaming wind down. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table as the sound of Steve’s footsteps padding down the stairs rang in the sudden quietness of the house. 

He raised his gaze from the tiled floor of their kitchen when Steve entered the room, smiling wearily as Steve made his way over to press his lips to Bucky’s forehead. Out of habit, Bucky reached to wrap his arms around Steve’s middle and pull him close, but Steve gently grabbed ahold of wrists before he got the chance. He made a confused noise, not even regretting that he sounded like a child, and felt his cheeks flare pink when Steve raised an eyebrow at the coffee mug still gripped in his left hand. 

“Not that I wouldn’t love to snuggle right now, but I’d rather your coffee didn’t spill all down my ass.” 

Bucky groaned a bit at his words, letting Steve take the coffee mug out of his hand and set it on the kitchen table beside them. “Ugh, I forgot I was holding the damn thing.”

“It’s okay, baby.” Steve smiled softly and ran a hand through Bucky’s hair. It was still pretty long, hanging a bit past his chin and Bucky had been meaning to get a haircut for a few weeks now, though Maggie had taken precedent to any other commitments. He’d forgone shaving for the past few days too, ever since Maggie had come down with her cold. For some reason, he still hadn’t quite gotten over the hot little spike of fear new parents get when their baby gets sick and he was thankful for Steve’s level head because without him, he’d be a nervous wreck on mornings like these. Steve was somehow more calm where Maggie was concerned, and had nearly perfected the art of relaxing both her and Bucky simultaneously. A goddamn miracle worker he was, and Bucky couldn’t thank the Lord above enough. 

“M’not a baby..” Bucky teased, leaning into Steve’s touch like a kitten purring for attention. “The baby’s upstairs.”

That earned him a laugh and another affectionate caress from Steve, feeling Steve’s hand smooth over his back and rub small, calming circles. “Mmhmm, and she’s sleeping just fine, too.”

Bucky buried his face in Steve’s sweatshirt as he sat there, clinging onto him as Steve rubbed the stress and tension of the morning out of his muscles. Somehow, even his metal arm felt infinitely more relaxed as well and Bucky chalked it up to the magical effect Steve seemed to have on him. 

A question lingered at the back of his mind and threatened to march it’s way onto Bucky’s tongue, the words full of uncertainty. Some part of him new it was a stupid thing to ask, but Bucky’s petulant side wanted it answered anyway. Out came in a small, timid voice: “Do you think I’ll ever get the hang of this parenting thing?”

Steve’s hands only stilled for a moment before continuing their movements, and he bent his head down to whisper his answer into Bucky's hair, a kiss following shortly after. “I think we both will in no time.”

  
Bucky was glad his face was hidden by Steve’s sweatshirt because the smile that danced its way onto his lips from the relief of Steve’s words could have blinded the sun.


	6. Four Years Later

It was miracle some other parent hadn’t honked at their car from how long it had been sitting in the drop off lane. Steve had suggested they leave early in case something like this happened, but Bucky fussed because he wanted to make sure Maggie had everything she needed for her first day of preschool. Now he was kicking himself because he knew Steve was right, as fucking always. 

Maggie was clinging onto the side of Bucky’s pant leg, clutching the fabric of his jeans in one little hand while the other was held in Steve’s own as he knelt beside her, and she’d been on the verge of tears ever since Bucky had lifted her out of her car seat. Each time that Bucky tried to take a step closer to the school, Maggie would cry out and dig her feet into the ground, mustering up all the strength a three year old’s body can muster.

“D-Don’t wanna go!” She hiccuped, shying away from some other toddlers as they passed by with their parents on their way to the front doors and trying to hide behind as much of Bucky’s leg as possible. 

“Baby, it’s alright.” Steve rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and tried to coax her out from behind Bucky’s jeans. “Nothing bad is gonna get you, I promise.”

Maggie sniffled and eyed the school warily once again, those baby blues that looked so much like her father’s welling up with tears as she gripped onto Bucky tighter. Bucky reached down to ruffle her hair with a gentle hand, being careful not to mess up the pig tails she’d been so adamant about wearing this morning, and suppressed a sigh. He loved his baby girl more than anything, but sometimes Maggie could be a bit of a handful for the both of them. 

“Maggie, everything’s okay.” Steve tried again, reaching over to pry her hand away from the denim she was grasping, and everything was going fine for a moment before Maggie opened her mouth and let out a wail that damn near broke Bucky’s heart. And his eardrums, for that matter.

He bent down next to Steve, leaning down to Maggie’s height and reached out a hand to wipe some stray tears away from her cheeks. She tried in vain to look behind him at the school, another cry bubbling up in her throat, but Bucky held her chin lightly in his palm so that she was looking at him instead and hushed her quietly. 

“Baby girl, I know school looks scary…” He smoothed some hair back from her forehead, the wispy baby hairs waving back and forth in the fall breeze. “But sometimes we gotta face our fears, yeah?” 

Maggie gave him a frown and crossed her arms. “M’not scared!” 

Bucky had to resist the urge to laugh because if that wasn’t something Steve Rogers would say, he didn’t know what was. He couldn’t believe he’d have to go through the process of keeping another rebellious behind safe from what the world would throw at her. He looked over at Steve, giving him a tiny smug grin before turning back to their daughter. “Okay, okay. You’re a brave, big girl, then. Right?”

She nodded, a bit more fiercely than necessary but Bucky could see the tell tale determination in her eyes that reminded him so much of a certain scrappy little boy back in Brooklyn. If he played his cards right, he just might be able to win this battle. 

“Good. Then you know big girls aren’t afraid of school. They walk in there with their head held high because they can do anything.” Bucky tapped her on the tip of her nose, happiness blooming in his chest as she granted him the hint of a smile. “Now, who’s my brave girl?”

“Me!” Maggie launched herself into Bucky’s arms with a grin, her laughter soaring as Bucky picked her up and twirled her around. Steve stood smiling at the two of them and let out an ‘oof!’ as Bucky passed Maggie along to him, Maggie wrapping her arms around Steve’s neck and leaning her head against his cheek. 

“To school!” She said triumphantly, pointing at the doors and giggling to herself after the outburst. Steve tickled her tummy, which only sent her into more gales of laughter, and grabbed her backpack from where it had been discarded in the grass, Bucky following next to them as the three made their way inside. 

“Looks like I have another little punk on my hands.” Bucky whispered into Steve’s ear as they passed by the different classrooms and side stepped around the masses of children trying to escape their parents’ daily goodbye. 

  
Steve looked over at him and a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


	7. Five Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some prime bucky & nat friendship right here, and also some playful banter

Bucky was sure that he told Natasha at least fifty times over the past few months; no, she wasn’t allowed to buy Maggie anything resembling a weapon for Christmas. He thought that maybe he’d finally gotten the point across, until she got around to bringing up the topic whenever she visited Steve and him at their house. 

“C’mon, Barnes, not even a Nerf gun? Kids love Nerf guns, just ask Clint. His kids practically have fifty of them.” Nat leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping at the Starbucks that she had brought with her when she came over that morning. Thankfully, she’d also brought some for him and Steve because Bucky was sure that he wouldn’t be able to make it through another conversation without his head exploding from lack of caffeine. When he’d developed that addiction, he didn’t know, but something told him that being a parent might’ve had something to do with it. 

Bucky sighed heavily, tipping back his drink and letting the hazelnut latte swim its way down his throat. “Nat, we’ve been over this. Pretty sure it’s been more than once, too.” 

Nat gave him a innocent look over the rim of her cup. “Really? I don’t recall.” 

“I’m sure.” Bucky snorted and set his coffee down so he could go back to mixing the pancake batter for this morning’s breakfast. Maggie had read aloud  _ Goodnight Moon _ all by herself before bed last night, and Bucky had promised her pancakes in the morning because he was so proud. Though in a surprising (albeit not) turn of events, Bucky forgot his promise by the time he awoke and found himself with the task of preparing breakfast, barely keeping himself on his feet as Maggie tugged him out of bed and down the stairs. Bucky was thankful, even with being a little annoyed, that Nat had popped by with coffee in tow to join them because if she hadn’t, he’d be face-planting the bowl of Bisquick in front of him. 

“Steve said that a Swiss Army knife could come in quite handy at Maggie’s preschool class. Apparently some of those kids really like to use their teeth-”

“Natasha. You are NOT getting a four year old a Swiss Army knife.” Bucky shot her a withering look as he ladled some batter onto the stove top griddle. “Besides, Steve’s not the only parent.”  _ Though it feels like I am while his ass is still asleep upstairs. _

“I know that.” Nat hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter next to the stove, swiping some of the chocolate chips Bucky was going to arrange in smiley faces on the pancakes and tossing them into her mouth. Bucky didn’t even bother with a retort and focused on making sure he didn’t burn any of the pancakes. Lord knows Steve had burned enough for the two of them. 

The kitchen quieted down after that, the only noise coming from the living room where Maggie sat colouring on the floor as Saturday morning cartoons played on full blast. Every so often Bucky would turn his head to make sure no marker ink made it’s way onto the carpet and when Maggie happened to catch him looking, she stuck her tongue out at him and covered the drawing with her arm so he couldn’t see. He smiled. What a goddamn little punk. 

“She looks like you, you know.” Nat swung her legs slightly from where she sat, her eyes trained on where Maggie was sprawled out on the floor. 

Bucky paused and looked up at her slightly. That was something new. He was used to people saying how much Maggie and Steve looked alike, from the bright blue of her eyes to the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed. It made sense seeing as how Steve was technically her biological father, but sometimes Bucky couldn’t ignore the little pang in his chest every time someone mentioned how similar they were, almost like a little reminder that said,  _ ‘you’re not really her father’ _ . Though Steve always made sure to include Bucky whenever people spoke about Maggie, somehow he felt like a fraud. A person pretending to live a life he wasn’t so sure he deserved. 

Brushing away those thoughts, Bucky flipped a pancake over, the chocolate chip smiley face staring almost tauntingly back up at him. “How so?”

“It’s the hair.” Nat nodded over to Maggie, and took a swig of her coffee. “All dark and wavy like yours.” 

Bucky followed Nat’s gaze and let himself study his daughter for a moment, analyzing any details he might’ve missed over the past four years of her life. He knew that Maggie had been born with dark hair, little tufts of brown popping up all over her head when she was just a baby, but he also knew that she got that trait from Lena, who always wore her long, black hair in a braid whenever they saw her. It hadn’t occurred to him that Maggie’s hair could somehow be associated with him. He looked over the tangled curls he still had yet to comb through, and realized to his amazement that their hair was indeed very much the same color. 

A little bubble of joy burst in his chest at the thought, a form of validation that somehow tied him and Maggie together even if they weren’t blood related. He loved that Maggie looked like Steve, don’t get him wrong… but it was still nice to feel that she was a part of him just as much as she was of Steve. 

Nat must’ve seen the happy written all over Bucky’s face because she let out a little chuckle, saying, “If I’d known that would perk you up, I would’ve said it an hour ago.” 

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you always have to ruin a perfectly good moment?” 

“It’s my specialty.” Nat winked at him, hopping down from the counter just as Maggie came rushing into the room, paper waving in her hands and orange ink all over her cheeks.

“Auntie Nat, look what I drew for Daddy!” Maggie said excitedly, holding up the piece of paper so that it was on full display and standing on her tiptoes so that she could reach even higher. She peeked over once at Bucky and gave him a stern face, the expression comical on her. “No peeking!!” 

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, laughing as Nat picked Maggie up from the floor. She took the paper from Maggie and turned away so that their backs faced Bucky, Maggie looking over Nat’s shoulder every other second to make sure Bucky couldn’t see. Nat’s voice floated over to where he stood, and the words were at a low enough volume to convince Maggie it was a whisper but loud enough that Bucky could still eavesdrop. 

“Ooo, I really like this one, Mags. It looks just as good as your Dad’s drawings.” Nat said, her words causing Maggie to giggle quietly in reply. Bucky smiled at that, knowing that Maggie always watched Steve whenever he sketched and tried to replicate some of his handiwork in her own coloring. Not to mention she also adored Nat, so any praise from her made Maggie glow for the rest of the day. 

There was some whispering Bucky couldn’t quite decipher before Nat turned around and set Maggie back down on the floor. She ran over to Bucky almost as soon as her feet touched the ground and grabbed onto his legs, grinning up at him like he hung the stars and the moon. “You wanna see my picture, Daddy? Auntie Nat said it looks just like Papa’s.” 

Bucky reached down to pinch her cheek gently. “Course I do, honey.” 

Maggie squealed, pulling the drawing out from where she was hiding it not so nonchalantly behind her back and holding it up so that Bucky could see, bouncing on her feet. On the paper she’d drawn a sunset; a mash of reds, pinks, and oranges surrounding a yellow blob that overlooked what seemed like a house. Three little stick figures stood outside of it, two larger ones and a smaller one in between them, all wearing happy smiles. 

“See? That’s you, Papa, and me.” Maggie reached up a hand to point to the little stick figures, looking up at him to see his validation of her work. “You like it, right?”

Bucky leaned down and gently took the paper from her, wrapping her tightly in a hug and kissing the top of her head. “ I love it. Just like I love you.” 

Maggie laughed, squirming in Bucky’s hold and shrieking when he began to pepper her face with more kisses. She only stopped trying to escape when she scrunched up her nose and asked, “Daddy, what’s that smell?”

Bucky frowned a bit, sniffing the air himself. It did smell funny, now that he thought about it.  Almost as if something was burning…

“Shit, the pancakes!” Bucky lept up from the floor, turning back to the stove only to find the once happy pancake now burnt into oblivion on the griddle. He hurriedly turned it off and looked down at the black crumbly mess sadly. Even with the incident, Steve still beats him for the most burnt pancakes ever, but it didn’t stop Bucky from feeling disappointed. 

“I’m gonna say that’s a quarter in the swear jar.”

Bucky whipped around to where Natasha was standing with a smirk on her face, then looked down to see Maggie hugging onto her leg and trying not to giggle as well. He narrowed his eyes at them, putting his hands on his hips warningly. “You wanna bet?”

“Sure. Loser let’s Maggie get a Nerf gun.”

“How are you so sure I’m the loser?”

“Because I don’t lose.”

“We’ll see about that, Romanoff.”

  
Bucky ended up putting a quarter in the swear jar after Steve woke up and sided with Natasha. And on Christmas morning, Nat looked over at Bucky with a smug grin as Maggie opened up the biggest Nerf gun on the goddamn planet. 


	8. Six Years Later

Bucky didn’t know who he expected to be on the other end of the line when he picked up the phone that afternoon, but it sure as hell wasn’t Lena Stieber. 

“Hey, James. It’s… it’s been a long time.” 

Bucky almost dropped the phone when he first heard her voice in the receiver. It was like someone had taken Thor’s hammer to his stomach and punched him all the way to Asgard because  _ Lena was calling them _ . 

After everything was said and done between Lena and them, they agreed it was best for her to stay out of Maggie’s life to prevent any further complications down the road. Lena had just smiled and nodded along, taking everything in stride like it was no big deal she was giving up a baby that was half her. A part of it had unnerved Bucky at the time. It gave him an eerie feeling as he watched her sign away the rights to Maggie without so much as even spending more than five minutes with her before going about her way, but he chalked it up to him reading into things too much. She made things easy for them, and he should be grateful. End of story. 

At least he’d thought it was the end of the story.

“Lena… Hi.” Bucky let out a nervous laugh as he answered. It was weird enough that she was calling them after almost five years without contacting them once, not to mention she’d also kept their number, but hearing someone call him James after such a long time almost catapulted him straight back into the 40s. He had wanted to be professional around Lena when they first met, so he’d introduced himself as James. He tried to wean her off of the name as they became more familiar with each other, but for some reason James stuck with her. “Yeah, it has been a long time. Can I, uh… can I ask why you’re calling?” 

There was a bit of a pause on the other line before Lena answered, her voice sounding exactly like it had the last they’d seen her. “I meant to call earlier, before years had passed but... I couldn’t really bring myself to pick up the phone until now.”

“Oh?” Bucky hoped his voice didn’t sound too strained from forcing some happiness into it. “Well, it’s nice to, um, hear from you again.”

“I’m glad.” She grew quiet for a few more moments and Bucky’s anxiety heightened as he waited for her response, if she even had another response. He almost was about to hang up the phone when Lena said, “Margaret’s birthday is in two weeks, right? September 4th, if I remember correctly.” 

Something in Bucky’s stomach curdled at her words. “Yeah… Yeah, it is.”

“I was wondering if I could drop by and give Margaret a present.” This time, there wasn’t a pause between sentences and it fell from her mouth almost faster than Bucky could comprehend. Lena wanted to come visit Maggie? Okay, in all the forums he read about surrogate mothers and situations that came with them, there was never a thread that taught him how to deal with a surrogate mother showing up randomly to say hi to their daughter. He wasn’t even sure if it was legal for her to see Maggie anyway. It had been a closed type of handoff, with both sides agreeing that it was best they not speak again, so the fact that she was calling now to visit? Bucky’s gut didn’t like it one bit. 

He chose his words carefully as he answered. “Well, I’d have to talk to Steve about it-”

“Would you mind asking him right now?” Again, the question rushed out of her and Bucky furrowed his brow. She seemed to realize after a moment  that her approach wasn’t exactly the best, so she hastily added, “I don’t mean to rush you, it’s just that I’ve only got a short window of time to talk. Being on a break at work, and all.”

“Uh…” Bucky looked out the window of the kitchen where he stood, the window he usually stood in front when Maggie was out playing because it gave him a view of the entire backyard, and bit his lip as he caught sight of Steve pushing Maggie on the swingset. Maggie’s entire face was alight with joy and he could see her mouthing back to Steve _ ‘higher, Papa!’ _ , kicking her legs in the air excitedly. Steve couldn’t stop smiling either, it seemed, indulging Maggie in her quest for new heights as he ‘underdogged’ beneath her swing. The sight caused Bucky’s stomach to flip flop in anxiety, worrying that Steve might not be able to catch her if she fell, but it quickly calmed as Maggie came back down in a fit of giggles with her hands still gripping the chains. The moment would seem ordinary to anyone else, but to Bucky it was everything and more. As cliche as that sounds. 

Almost as if sensing that Bucky was watching them, Steve glanced over to the window and shot him a grin. It effectively turned Bucky’s insides into mush and all he wanted to do for the rest of the day was bask in the glory of his gorgeous husband and his happy baby girl. His hopes for any sort of afternoon like that were soon extinguished by the reminder of Lena waiting on the other end for his response. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just, uh, run out and ask him real quick.” He swallowed the lump beginning to clog up his throat and asked Lena if she’d mind waiting on the other end of the line for a few minutes.  She agreed to it, if not a little too eagerly, and Bucky set his cell phone down on the counter, taking a moment to think it over before pushing open the door to their backyard and making his way towards Steve. 

His face must’ve given away the fact that something was up because when Bucky approached,  Steve knelt down to Maggie and motioned her to go play with some sidewalk chalk over on the patio. As soon as he was sure that she was preoccupied, Steve turned to Bucky with a worried look. “What’s going on?”

Bucky let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair as he looked over at Maggie to where she was already getting chalk dust all over her face. “ You’re not gonna believe who I’m talking to in there.”

“Is it Fury?” Steve frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Jesus, I thought we told him we were done fighting-”

“Nono, Steve, it’s not… it’s not Fury.” Bucky dared to glance back at the house, wondering if he should even say it but also knowing it was too late to back out now. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “It’s Lena.”

Surprise registered in Steve’s eyes as he took in what Bucky said. “She still has our number?”

“Apparently.”

“Well, what did she say?”

Bucky bit his lip again. Hesitation gripped his tongue but Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky’s silence, the motion drawing the words from his mouth. “She wants to visit Maggie on her birthday. Said something about bringing her a present too, I think.”

Bucky had expected Steve to laugh at such a suggestion, for him to say that it’s ridiculous she thinks she could just waltz back into Maggie’s life like it’s no big deal. At the very least he expected him to be opposed to the idea, but was taken aback when all Steve did was consider it for a moment and give a little shrug. “It’s not the worst idea ever.”

Steve must’ve noticed the concern plaguing Bucky’s face after he spoke because he reached out to grab his arms gently. “Hey, hey, we don’t have to invite her over at all if it makes you uncomfortable. Your feelings are more important than an invitation.”

Bucky could almost hear the gears turning in Steve’s head, knowing that he still had more to say. “Okay… what are you thinking about it then?”

“I know that we all agreed that it was best for Lena to stay away from Maggie,” Steve glanced over at Maggie for a moment before looking back at Bucky, “... but I don’t think it would be a disaster if Lena saw her for a few minutes.” 

Bucky couldn’t believe Steve, of the both of them for christ’s sake, was the one agreeing with it all. He spoke hurriedly under his breath, “What if Maggie asks who she is? How do we pass that one off? She’s not an infant anymore, Steve.” 

“We wouldn’t have to tell Maggie exactly who she is, just that she’s an old family friend who wanted to stop by and give her a birthday present.” Steve sighed a bit and looked down at his feet, considering what he was about to say next before he said it aloud. When he looked up again, he said, “I don’t know, Buck. I just feel bad that she didn’t really get any closure from the whole experience.” 

“She’s the one who walked away without wanting to see Maggie! We didn’t force her to-”

“I know, I know,” Steve rubbed his thumbs gently over Bucky’s arms in an attempt to relieve some of his anxiety. “But maybe she’s coming to terms with things, realizing she wants to see her daughter one time before everything’s closed off for good.” Steve let out a tiny laugh. “I mean, it’s a little late, but I don’t know if it’s right to deny her that.” 

Bucky wanted to scoff at Steve’s words but held his tongue as he mulled it over in his head. On one hand, it could all go south very quickly if Maggie ended up asking a million questions about Lena, and Bucky wasn’t sure if she’d be able to understand why Lena wouldn’t be staying in her life after the party. Not to mention if Lena decided to start something that could potentially end in the police being called. On the other… he hated to admit it, but Steve had a point. Even though she’d signed her maternal rights away, Maggie was still half her and considering how fast things went after Lena was discharged from the hospital, it was entirely possible there might be some unresolved feelings Lena needed to address before moving on in her life. 

Some part of him still wondered why she hadn’t come forward sooner, but it was overshadowed by his own voice saying. “All right. But if shit goes south, you’re helping me clean up the mess, punk.” 

Steve rolled his eyes teasingly. “As if I’d think of doing anything else, jerk.” 

  
And that’s how Bucky found himself walking back inside and inviting Lena Stieber, of all people, to Maggie’s fifth birthday party.


	9. Six Years and Two Weeks Later

Everything was going so smoothly during Maggie’s birthday party that for a moment Bucky actually allowed himself to relax. He and Steve had been up since 7am cleaning the house and setting up the backyard for the day’s festivities, recruiting Sam, Nat, and Clint to help as well later on in the day, and Wanda had volunteered to take Maggie out to a movie to keep her occupied. By about noon, all of the decorations had been put up, the cake had been frosted, and most of the party snacks were ready to be served (except for the cheetos that Sam and Clint kept eating between taping streamers to every goddamn surface). Wanda and Maggie returned shortly after and as soon as Maggie saw the giant poster that read  _ Happy Birthday, Maggie! _ in bright orange lettering (Steve had slaved over it in his studio every night that week), her face burst into an expression so full of elation that it practically knocked Bucky off his feet. Being a parent was  _ damn _ hard, but moments like that made all the hardships worth it ten-fold. Even if it meant that he’d be staying up until the wee hours of the morning cleaning up the mess said party was inevitably going to cause. 

That year was the biggest birthday party for Maggie yet, mostly due to the fact of her moving onto kindergarten and pleading with her dads to invite almost half the class over for the party since she was, quote, “a big girl now” and big girls had to have big parties. It took some convincing but after careful consideration, and lots of phone calls to different parents, Bucky and Steve finally relented to Maggie’s wishes. As if they’d be able to resist indulging her anyway. All fifteen of those kids were now running around their backyard and when Clint’s kids arrived with Laura rushing in behind them, Bucky was surprised that their yard hadn’t turned into a disaster zone. 

“Well, we sure pulled it off, huh?” Sam clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked out over the yard with a proud gaze from where they stood on the patio. The party was in full swing by that point; the kids out playing with the various activities set up around the yard and the adults mingling close by the snacks and punch that may or may not have been spiked with vodka by Nat a little while earlier.

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes, biting his tongue to keep from reminding Sam that he spent most of the time goofing off with Clint while Steve scolded them both, and took a sip of his Pepsi. “Yeah, we sure did.”

Sam turned his gaze over to Bucky and considered his words for a moment before asking, “Not to put a damper on the mood but… when’s ‘you know who’ dropping by?”

Bucky’s stomach twisted. “You can say her name, Sam. She’s not Voldemort.” 

“And here I was thinking you didn’t know any pop culture references.”

“Shuddup, before I go all Bellatrix on your ass.” 

“Hey, hey watch the language. There are children present.” Sam grinned and then sighed pointedly for dramatic effect, rephrasing his question. “But alright, lemme revise: when is  _ Lena  _ getting here?”

Bucky tapped his fingers nervously against the pop can he grasped in his left hand, the metal against metal sound not helping his anxiety at all but he couldn’t help being fidgety. Ever since that phone call two weeks ago, a bad taste had lingered in Bucky’s mouth and now that the day was finally here, every one of his senses seemed to be on high alert. He’d practically been counting down the minutes until Lena would have her five minutes with Maggie and then leave them to enjoy the rest of the party in peace. “She told us that she’d drop by around 3-ish, something about coming straight from work and that was the earliest she could get off her shift.”

“Where does she work anyway?” Sam raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Seems like the two times she’s popped up, work’s been keeping her busy.”

For some reason, Sam’s suspicion of Lena made Bucky feel more valid in his worrying. Steve had been super calm about the whole situation and helped to a point, but Bucky also needed to know that he wasn’t crazy for thinking that this wasn’t the best idea. 

Bucky caught sight of Maggie running across the yard, clad in a blue Cinderella dress that she insisted on pairing with her ruby red slippers, and his heart lumped into his throat as she waved over at him with a smile. “She’s never mentioned where she works, actually.”

“Huh.” Sam tipped back the rest of his Dr. Pepper, tossing the empty can into a recycling bin and looking out over the yard himself. He sighed after a moment and looked over Bucky, nudging him to grab his attention. “Well, look, try to enjoy the party anyway. It’s not every day your little girl turns five.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up at that. “Yeah, you’d be right.”

“Take it easy, okay?.” With that, Sam sashayed his way over to Steve as he stood by the punch bowl to make sure no little ones would mistake it for kool aid, and Bucky grabbed a water to nurse while watching over some kids who decided it was a good idea to balance on top of a soccer ball. He managed to help avoid at least two possible concussions, to the dismay of some kid who apparently wanted to see someone fall on their head, and finally made the executive decision that the soccer ball should probably be put away in the garage until further notice. He was actually managing to enjoy himself by the time 3 o’clock came around,finding himself pushing Maggie and another kid on the swingset for a little while, and he had almost forgotten about Lena’s arrival until he heard Steve call his name from across the yard. 

“Buck!” Bucky whipped his head over to where Steve stood by the gate to their yard and his body cooled over as he saw the person standing next to him. 

Lena looked like she had barely aged since they’d seen her last, her hair in it’s signature braid and her face just as kind and open as it had been when she waved goodbye to them from the hospital doors. In her hands, she held a small bag that had pink tissue paper spilling out of the top, what Bucky assumed to Maggie’s birthday gift. Lena smiled when she saw Bucky looking and raised her hand in greeting, and Bucky forced himself to return the gesture. 

Knowing that he could only put it off for so long, Bucky gently grabbed Maggie’s hand and told her that there was someone special Papa and him wanted her to meet. Maggie’s eyes lit up at the idea of meeting someone new, and she followed along with a little skip in her step as they made their way over to where Steve and Lena stood. It pained him to see her so excited when he knew that this wasn’t someone she would be able to see again, and his grip on Maggie tightened slightly when they approached. 

Lena knelt down to Maggie’s height when she and Bucky stopped in front of them, and gave her a soft smile. “Hi there, sweetie.”

“Hi.” Maggie answered, her voice a bit more timid than usual and she leaned herself against Bucky’s leg. 

“My name’s Lena. I’m an old friend of your dads’, and they told me it was alright to come by and say happy birthday to you.” Lena kept her distance, which made Bucky feel slightly better about the situation. “What’s your name?”

“Maggie Rogers-Barnes.” Bucky cracked a genuine smile at that and below him Lena let out a laugh as well. Maggie looked up at Bucky, sticking her tongue out at him when she saw the amused look on his face. “What? That’s my name!”

Lena grabbed Maggie’s attention again by saying, “You said it very well. I think your daddy’s just very proud of you for saying your last name too.”

“Last names are important.” Maggie nodded her head with a level of certainty too severe for her young age, and this time Steve, Bucky and Lena all grinned. Maggie might not’ve be a supersoldier like her father, but she sure had a talent for charming the pants off of everyone she met. 

Steve knelt down next to Lena after a moment, taking Maggie’s other hand and saying. “Is it okay if Lena and you have a short tea party inside? You can go back to playing right after, but Lena hasn’t seen you in a long time and wants to talk to you for a little bit before she has to leave.”

Bucky was hesitant about letting go of Maggie’s hand, but didn’t have much of a choice as Maggie nodded excitedly and reached to grab onto Lena’s hand instead. Steve and Lena both straightened up, each with one of Maggie’s hands, and walked away towards their house, a snapshot of the perfect little family. The sight of the three of them together with their backs to Bucky suddenly made him feel very much like a fourth wheel. A guest that was invited to the party out of pity, but didn’t really belong there. He shook his head slightly, reminding himself that  _ Lena _ was the guest invited out of pity and not him, and watched solemnly as the three of them made their way out of view. Just before they disappeared, Maggie leaned her head back to send a beaming grin at Bucky and the sight immediately calmed the anxiety snaking it’s way around his chest. If Maggie was getting something happy out of this experience, then Bucky would put aside whatever feelings he had towards Lena so that it wouldn’t be ruined for her.  

Bucky busied himself with picking up empty juice boxes strewn across the yard while he waited for the little “tea party” to be over and only allowed himself to look up when he saw Steve making his way down the patio steps out of the corner of his eye. Walking up beside him, he tossed the trash in his hands into a wastebasket and asked Steve quietly, “How are things going in there?”

Steve glanced up from cutting a slice of birthday cake, smiling gently when he realized it was Bucky. “It’s going good. Maggie and Lena really seem to be getting along.” He nodded his head towards the slice of birthday cake already laid out on a plate beside him. “Lena asked if they could have some cake with their ‘tea’.” 

Bucky snorted and turned his gaze to the kitchen window. He couldn’t see Lena or Maggie sitting anywhere, but he assumed they they were just out of his range of sight. Steve caught him searching and gave a little sigh before placing the paper plates in Bucky’s hands, drawing Bucky’s eyes away from the house. 

“Why don’t you go bring the cake to them? I’m sure Maggie would love if both you and Lena were there to share it.” Steve kissed Bucky’s cheek and nudged him towards the door that lead inside, a teasing glint in his eye. For a moment, Bucky thought Steve was kidding but when all Steve did was lean back against the table behind him and give him an expectant look, he realized Steve wasn’t fucking with him. Bucky wanted to stick his tongue out at him defiantly, but thought better of it and just nodded instead, his feet taking him to the door almost of their own accord. Nerves began to creep back into his limbs as he stepped into the kitchen, trying to balance the two plates effectively while also closing the door behind him, and he took a moment to steady himself. He could do this, no problem. Just a casual partaking of cake between a girl, her surrogate mother, and the father who wasn’t even related to her. Perfectly normal scenario. 

Bucky stared at the closed door a bit longer than necessary, gathering his bearings before he jumped into uncharted waters, and turned around to face Maggie and Lena where they sat at the kitchen table.

Except that Maggie and Lena were nowhere to be seen.

Bucky blinked. 

No way.

No _ fucking  _ way.

Pure fear iced its way up Bucky’s spine as he let the cake drop to his feet with a sickening plop, running past the kitchen table, with it’s half empty glasses of apple juice and Maggie’s present still standing by, and into the living room. 

Empty. 

He booked it towards the staircase and took the stairs two by two, praying that maybe Maggie wanted to show Lena the new canopy over her bed Nat had gotten her for her birthday just days ago. Almost running into the door, he threw it open with enough force for it to bang against the wall and bounce off from the impact, revealing the orange walls and stuffed animals and that damn canopy hanging from the ceiling. 

But no Maggie. And no Lena. 

Bucky let out a hopeless whimper at the sight and rushed his way back down the stairs, sprinting throughout every room in their house and fueled by the sheer panic coursing in his veins, in his very core.

He checked the basement. Empty. 

The bathrooms. Empty.

The little storage closet that he told Maggie to never go into under any circumstances. Empty, empty, empty. 

He fisted his hands into his hair, feeling his chest tighten as his breath came in rapid fire bursts, and frantically looked every which way.  _ There’s no way she could just disappear, there’s no fucking way. _ Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as a broken sob dropped from his lips, his gaze finally focusing on that goddamn kitchen table and the present that looked seemingly untouched. Bucky leaped over to it, practically ripping it from the table and shoving his hand inside, wanting to find whatever was so fucking important for Lena to bring Maggie. He frowned when all that he pulled from the bag was clump after clump of pink tissue paper, until he realized that there wasn’t a present in there at all. 

There was no fucking present. 

No.  

No no no no  _ NO. _

“STEVE!” Bucky screamed, crushing the remnants of the gift in his hands as he booked it outside to where the party was still going on, not even caring that he probably looked like he’d lost his damn mind as he practically crashed into Steve. He felt Steve’s hands roam over him, running over his arms, cupping his face, but Bucky couldn’t register anything clearly. Everything was muddled, like he was swimming through a murky lake and could never quite break the surface. He felt like he was suffocating, feeling the water pour down his face and worrying that he actually might drown before he realized that it wasn’t lake water at all. Steve wiped away the tears streaming across Bucky’s cheeks, and it looked like he was saying something but Bucky couldn’t hear what it was. He fisted his hands into Steve’s shirt, gripping onto the fabric for dear life, and heard himself cry out a garbled phrase, over and over again. 

_ Maggie’s gone. _

Steve’s face turned white as he seemed to understand the distorted speech coming out of Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky felt himself being passed off into someone else’s embrace. He cried out, reaching out towards where he last felt Steve but the person holding him tightened their grip, pulling Bucky against their chest as he fought to pull away. He didn’t want to be fucking coddled, he wanted to find his baby girl. Another vicious sob racked his body as he grabbed at the arms holding his captive, saying through his tears that he needed to find her, he needed to find his baby, but a familiar voice repeated like a mantra “ _ Bucky, it’s okay. Just calm down. _ ”

In the midst all the madness, Bucky could hear Steve’s voice carrying above everything else as he screamed Maggie’s name, the brokenness in his tone ripping a new batch of wails from Bucky’s body. He finally recognized the person holding him as Sam when his voice came from above Bucky’s head, yelling to Clint that someone needed to call the goddamn police. He could just barely make out Nat’s anguished face as she kneeled in front of him, stroking his face gently with her hands while tears ran down her own and it occurred to him in the back of his mind somewhere that this was the first time he’d ever seen Natasha Romanoff cry. Soon after that, everything faded to black.

  
A perfect metaphor for Bucky’s life crumbling into nothing. 


	10. One Month After

If Bucky thought he knew what hell was like before, he realized now that he was very, very mistaken. 

Every morning, he and Steve would head out in their old VW bug from years ago and drive for hours on end, scouring the streets for Maggie. They spent the first few days checking their own town over and over before they started to move onto the cities beyond, and with each day that passed, the longer the drives became. Some days they would only stop to go to bathroom; in Bucky’s case that meant throwing up whatever he’d managed to stomach down in the past 24 hours, and when he saw Steve wiping at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve as he walked back to the car, he suspected he wasn’t the only one. 

Nat offered to stay at the house, always by the phone in case anyone called with updates about Maggie’s whereabouts, and Bucky could tell that she was probably getting about as much sleep as Steve and him. He hadn’t seen Nat cry since that afternoon, but the thought still haunted him as his eyes roamed over the city streets. He wondered if she cried when they were gone. 

Sam was the one holding all of them together at that point, making sure they all ate and got at least two hours of sleep when they managed to drag themselves home empty handed and desolate. He made sure they took two aspirin before they went to bed and then handed them cups of coffee as they made their way out the door the next morning, never complaining about any of it. Bucky always knew that Sam was a good guy; he’d stuck by Steve’s side during all the bullshit Bucky had put Steve through and then again during the mess with Tony, but now he knew that Sam must be a guardian angel because nobody would put themselves through someone else’s hell like this. Sam did, and Bucky knew that if he got out of this alive, he’d be forever indebted to him. 

There were days when he thought that maybe he could be okay, if only for a moment, but each time he crashed back down to earth because there was nothing that didn’t remind him of Maggie. He would walk by the living room and only see the box of markers lying by the tv on top of a coloring book, some pages still stained with orange ink. He would pass through the kitchen and only be able to focus on Maggie’s drawings that he’d tacked onto the front of their fridge. He hadn’t even been able to enter her bedroom since that first day, because just the thought of seeing all of her things made him want to tear his eyes out of their sockets. 

Sometimes, when Sam reminded him gently that he needed to bathe because “he was stinking up the damn house”, he would turn the shower to its hottest setting and just sit on the floor of the tub, letting the water scorch down his back until he started to feel numb. It was only in those brief moments that he let himself break down, sobs wrenching themselves out of his throat with such ferocity that with every cry, it felt like someone was pulling teeth from his mouth. He wasn’t sure if Steve could hear him over the splatter of shower water but Bucky prayed that he couldn’t. There was already too much pain to go around. 

The first month without Maggie soon traveled into the second and third, and they left Bucky feeling hollow inside. He and Steve repeated their daily routine; wake up, get coffee, drive for hours, come back, and go to sleep. As they slumped into bed, Bucky barely had enough energy left in him to even pull his shirt over his goddamn head and he became so frustrated with trying to get it off that it brought him to tears. Steve came over to him and pried the shirt from Bucky’s clenched fists with gentle fingers, tugging it slowly over his head before tossing it into the hamper across the room. Bucky could see even through his tears that though Steve’s breath was calm, his hands were the opposite and they shook as Steve ran them through Bucky’s hair. Normally, Bucky would’ve turned his head to kiss Steve’s palm when his hand moved to cup Bucky’s cheek, but tonight, all that greeted Steve’s caress was the trickle of a tear. 

In the morning, Bucky found himself awake before Steve and tugged on an old sweatshirt that smelled like him before making his way downstairs. He walked past Maggie’s room and avoided looking at it like he always did, but did a double take when he noticed that the door was open a fraction. He paused, staring at the sliver of orange that splintered through the crack and his heart stuffed itself into his throat as he padded over to the doorway. He could already feel his chest constricting in anxiety from just putting his hand on the doorknob, but he forced himself to push the door all the way open to reveal the rest of Maggie’s bedroom. The sight of it all punched him in the stomach as he looked over what was left of his daughter, all that they had of her now, until his gaze landed on Natasha sitting by the edge of Maggie’s bed, a stack of clothes in her lap and a brown box beside her. 

Bucky’s voice caught as he spoke. “What are you doing?”

Nat glanced up from where she was folding one of Maggie’s sweaters, the red one she’d worn at Christmas, and looked about as tired as Bucky felt. “Steve asked me if I’d help pack away some of Maggie’s things.” 

“Why the hell would he ask you to do that?” Bucky’s hand tightened around where he still held the doorknob and he could feel it almost threatening to break off in his grip. “She’s.. She’s only been gone for a few months.”

Nat trained her weary eyes on the box as she placed Maggie’s sweater inside to mingle with the rest of the clothes there. “It’s been half a year, Bucky.”

Bucky could feel the anger bubbling in his chest, boiling and steaming into a sort of rage that he hadn’t felt in years and it scared him to know that he could blow his top at any second. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together before saying harshly, “Put her clothes back.”

“Bucky..” Nat sighed, and that only spurred on Bucky’s anger further. Who the hell was she to act exhausted? She wasn’t the one who’s daughter was missing; she wasn’t the one who’s husband all of a sudden made the decision to pack away their baby’s things. She most certainly wasn’t Maggie’s mother, and he’d never forget that now, not with the way things turned out at that fucking birthday party. She had no right to touch Maggie’s things. None at all. 

He took in a shaky breath before speaking. “Get your hands off of her clothes.” 

Bucky’s voice seemed to knock Nat out of whatever haze of fatigue she’d been under until that moment, and her brow furrowed in concern. “Bucky, this doesn’t she’s not coming back-”

“I said, get your  _ fucking  _ hands off my baby’s clothes.” Bucky’s body was vibrating from the effort of keeping his anger at bay, and he knew he would only be able to take so much before he went off like a goddamn firecracker. 

Nat paused, not knowing whether she should stand her ground or surrender to prevent things from getting out of hand, but she didn’t have a choice before Bucky came barrelling at her, arm outstretched to rip the clothes from her hands. He pulled them from her with such force that it caused her to stumble forward a couple of steps, but all Bucky could see was red as he grabbed the box and headed over to Maggie’s dresser, shoving the clothes haphazardly into different drawers with reckless abandon. He could feel tears burning at the corners of his eyes, and he swallowed a whimper as he felt someone come up behind him, their hand reaching out to touch his left arm. 

“Get the hell off of me!” Bucky yelled, swinging his hand back at the person and he felt the metal of his palm connect with skin. There was a pained hiss before hands reached out to him again, this time a different pair, and Bucky twisted in their grip. They pulled him away from the dresser and Bucky fought to be let go until he found himself in Steve’s embrace, strong arms and a familiar, homey scent wrapping around him like a blanket. 

“Buck, relax… Everything’s okay.” Steve held Bucky’s head to his chest, one hand in his hair while the other stroked up and down his back, and Bucky let himself be held for a few moments. He was almost tempted to let Steve calm him down, to let himself forget about the hell they were living, but then he remember what had been going on just minutes before. A new splash of anger washed over him and he pushed himself away from Steve, staggering a few steps away before turning around to face at the man he loved. The man he loved more than anything on this goddamn planet, and  _ fuck _ , it was torture to be angry towards him. 

“You.. You want to pack away her things.” The words felt like acid on Bucky’s tongue, burning their way through his mouth until there was nothing left but bone. 

Steve looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor. “Bucky-”

“No, you don’t get to ‘ _ Bucky _ ’ me. Not like this.” He ran a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to rip away fistfulls of it. “Just- what fucking possessed you to put her things away? Huh?”

Steve took a step towards him, pleading. “Bucky, just hear me out-” 

“It hasn’t even been a year yet!” 

“Buck,  _ please _ -”

“I’m not gonna just let you erase her from our lives like she was never fucking here!”

It was like he slapped Steve across the face. As soon as the words were out in the open, Bucky wanted to take them back, watching how Steve’s expression turned from pained to absolutely ruined. He looked at Bucky like he didn’t even know him, and Bucky’s stomach turned over at the way Steve’s normally warm gaze grew cold.  _ Oh god, I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up- _

“Fuck you for even thinking that.” 

Steve’s words were a dagger into Bucky’s chest, the blade twisting so that it caused as much pain as possible. He felt his throat already starting to choke with tears as he watched Steve stare him down with an expression so icy, it felt like Bucky was going back into Hydra’s freezer and that alone was enough to make him want to cut out his own tongue for what he’d said. He opened his mouth, wanting to say that he didn’t mean it, any of it,  but Steve just turned away, ignoring any attempt at apologizing Bucky would make. Bucky could only watch as Steve walked back into the hallway, and seeing him gently close the door behind Bucky hurt more than if he would’ve slammed it instead.

Steve Rogers, even in grief, was kind, and Bucky’s heart couldn’t stand it. 

That was the first day they ever deviated from their schedule, and Bucky stayed holed up in Maggie’s room for most of the morning and afternoon, trying to clean up the only part of his mess he could. When he left, he wasn’t sure if he should venture downstairs for fear of confronting Steve after his outburst, but decided to chance it because he hadn’t had a cup of coffee since the day before and his head was killing him. 

He walked into the kitchen with trepidation as he formulated what he was going to say if Steve was standing there, but felt a whole new wave of guilt as he saw who stood by the counter. 

Nat glanced up from her coffee mug as Bucky walked in, a bruise blooming across the right side of her face and it looked suspiciously like beginnings of a handprint. Bucky thought back to when he’d lashed out with his left hand and recalled hitting someone, but not remembering who it had been in the heat of the moment. Now, the realization of what he’d done came crashing into him with such force that he had to grip onto the doorframe to keep steady. 

“Nat..” Bucky breathed, her name falling painfully from his lips.

She took a moment before setting her coffee mug down on the counter beside  her and crossed her arms over her chest. Staring evenly at him, she said, “I should’ve talked about it with both of you before touching Maggie’s things. It wasn’t fair to do that to you, and you have every right to be upset.”

Bucky blinked at her because he sure as hell was expecting that to come out of her mouth. He started to ask why the hell she wasn’t kicking his ass for backhanding her but she held up a hand to stop him from speaking, effectively shutting him up without a word. 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. Shit happens.” Nat shrugged a bit, and then picked her mug back up from the counter to take a sip. The room was silent as she swallowed, neither of them breaking the quiet until Nat spoke again, giving Bucky a serious look over the rim of her mug. “But if you ever touch me like that again, you’re gonna lose that arm for a third time.”

  
Bucky thought he probably deserved as much.


	11. One Year After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: a mention of religion happens towards the end of this chapter and i just wanted to let you guys know because i know not everyone practices christianity. i also want to stress that im not trying to preach to you guys or anything like that (as a fairly non-religious person myself), and that i don't mean to offend anyone by writing in a mention of religion.

The nightmares had gotten worse. 

Ever since their fight six months ago, Bucky had been sleeping on the couch downstairs and giving Steve as much space as he needed to forgive him. It was a bit of a difficult adjustment, but he managed to get along on his own. The first few days were uneventful, mostly because Steve would just head up to their bedroom after getting home from their daily search and Bucky would feel too guilty about everything to follow. It made him nervous to sleep apart from Steve because they had shared a bed ever since he could remember and with his nightmares flaring up every so often, he wasn’t so sure how he would fare by himself. But then he reminded himself that he wasn’t a goddamn child, and he needed to get his shit together if he was going to get through this. He was almost at the point where he could almost call himself “okay”, but quickly slid backwards when the nightmares returned with a horrific vendetta. 

_ “Daddy!”  _

_ Bucky’s chest tightened as he ran towards the sound of Maggie’s screams. It was almost like he was in a maze and no matter which direction he ran, he always came to a dead end. God, he had to hurry, he had to get to her before- _

_ “DADDY!” _

_ His heart stopped at the panic rising in Maggie’s voice, and he frantically rushed to where he’d heard her last. It sounded like her screams had come from outside this time, slightly muted like she was yelling from behind a screen of glass. The thought of why she sounded so closed off tugged violently at his mind as he burst through the front door, eyes searching every which way and Maggie still nowhere to be found. Another frightened scream ripped through the air and made Bucky’s head whip around to where a car was pulling out of their driveway, a familiar dark braid sitting in the driver’s seat and causing a spike of rage to flash through him. His gaze soon shifted to the back seat, and Bucky swore that the fear he felt ice over his body at what he saw was worse than any freezer Hydra had ever locked him in.  _

_ Maggie sat pressed against the inside of the car, her face streaked with tears as she pounded her hands against the window and the sight made Bucky’s heart lurch. He sprinted across their yard and just barely managed to make contact with the car as it started to pull away, his fingers tugging at the door handle with all the strength in his being. ‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon-’ _

_ “Daddy, help!” Bucky looked up from his tugging as Maggie sobbed the words, her face a red mess of tears and snot, and wanted to vomit as he saw her palms bruising from how hard she was hitting the glass.  _

_ “Baby, don’t worry. I-I’ve got you-” Even as he said the words he knew they sounded unconvincing, the hysteria in his voice painfully evident as he struggled to get the door open. In the back of his mind, he wondered where Steve was and why the hell he wasn’t helping him, but those thoughts soon vanished when the car began pulling away down the street. He held onto the handle for dear life, hoping his metal arm would come in handy if only for this one goddamn moment, but knew that he could only keep up for so long. In some kind of personal torture he subjected himself to, Bucky looked up at Maggie as he ran beside the car and physically felt his heart breaking in two as he saw her eyes widen, some part of her realizing that Bucky wouldn’t be able to save her. _

_ “Daddy, don’t leave me- Daddy, PLEASE!” Maggie started to cry even louder, her palms slamming as hard as they could against the car window and Bucky let out a whimper at the sight. He reached out with his free hand and let his fingers trail across the glass, a final gesture to let Maggie know everything was going to be okay, to maybe calm her in some way before everything fell apart. His grip on the door handle began to slip, Maggie screaming out for him as she saw him stumble to keep up and the panic in her voice rose to a level that shook him to his very core. Where was Steve, oh god, he had to help him- _

_ As if in slow motion, Bucky saw his hand fall away from the door and it only took seconds for Maggie to be way beyond his reach, the car constantly speeding away from him like prey outwitting its predator. Funny how the predator was running away from its prey instead. He pushed himself to keep running, his lungs burning holes through his chest and his legs growing numb beneath him. It felt like he’d been sprinting for years and yet, the car still kept growing further and further beyond the horizon. No matter how far he ran or how fast he went, he couldn’t manage to reach that goddamn car and the pain of it all was slowly eating him alive.  _

_ A pair of arms suddenly reached out and wrapped tightly around him, pulling him out of the air and away from the now empty road. He thrashed against them and  threw out his fists, yelling obscenities at them in the hopes that they’d let him go. He had to get to her, he had to keep running, didn’t they see he had to keep running- _

“Shit!” 

Bucky’s eyes popped open at the familiar voice.

“God fucking damn it, Buck.”

He tilted his head up a fraction and saw Steve staring back at him. A small welt was forming under his left eye, red and angry, and Bucky had the sneaking suspicion that his fist might’ve had something to do with it. He then realized that he wasn’t even outside at all, but lying on the couch inside their living room, a mess of blankets and covered in sweat. It took him another few moments to recognize what had actually happened, and felt a sense of relief when he came to the conclusion that he was only having a nightmare. It wasn’t real; none of it was real. 

But… why where they downstairs? Why wasn’t he waking up next to Steve in bed like he always did? Not to mention, he’d probably frightened the daylights out of Maggie with all of his nightmare antics. She’d been a baby the last time he had an episode and he had the fleeting idea that he should go check on her, tell her that everything was alright-

Bucky’s stomach took a punch as everything came flooding back to him. He was sleeping downstairs because he and Steve had gotten into an argument. He and Steve had gotten into an argument because of Maggie’s clothes. And Maggie’s clothes were only an issue because- Maggie was gone. 

Maggie was  _ gone _ . 

A hot, stinging sensation began to pool behind his eyes as the words repeated over and over again in his head.  _ Maggie’s gone, Maggie’s gone, Maggie’s gone. _

He didn’t realize he was crying until Steve’s fingers rubbed gently over his cheeks, the coolness of his skin soothing the burning ache that seemed to be crawling all over Bucky’s body. It was the first time Steve had touched him in weeks and some part of Bucky wished that it wasn’t only because he was falling apart in their living room. Nonetheless he let himself be wrapped in Steve’s arms, Steve stroking his hands up and down against the damp skin of Bucky’s back as Bucky ran himself dry of tears. 

Pressing a barely-there kiss to Bucky’s temple, Steve whispered, “I’m so sorry, Buck...”

_ Sorry? _ At first Bucky thought he’d misheard him. He wanted to sit up and ask why the hell Steve was sorry when Bucky was the one who caused their fight in the first place, but Steve’s fingers running through the ends of Bucky’s hair quickly cleared his mind of any such thoughts. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was relishing in Steve’s attention and when the larger man made a move to get off the couch, Bucky grabbed onto his shirt with a whine. 

“Hey, hey.. I’m not leaving you.” Steve hushed him gently and ran an arm underneath Bucky’s thighs, securing the other around his torso as he lifted Bucky from the couch as easily as air. Bucky buried his face into Steve’s neck in response, his own arms reflexively wrapping around those broad shoulders he knew by memory and holding on tight. God, he remembered when those shoulders used to be delicate, pale skin just barely covering the bones underneath, and that how even then they carried the weight of the world with pride. Bucky knew he was only extra baggage Steve hefted around with everything else, and it suddenly occurred to him how very unworthy of Steve’s love he was.  

Steve carefully placed Bucky down on their bed, pulling the blanket up to Bucky’s chest like he was a child and smoothing a soft hand over his hair. Bucky closed his eyes at the contact and let out a tiny sigh as Steve laid next to him on top of the comforter, spooning him from behind and allowing his arm to droop across Bucky’s middle. Out of reflex, Bucky reached up to intertwine their fingers, so used to having done it a million times before that his body couldn’t recall how to do anything else and he was grateful that Steve didn’t protest. They hadn’t shared the same bed in months and yet, it was like they had been together all along. A part of Bucky questioned if this would only last through the night, that in the morning Steve would go back to sulking around the house and avoiding him, but the rest of him didn’t care. He would take whatever laid ahead if it meant he could spend this night in Steve’s arms and feel just a little bit whole again. 

God only knows how selfish that made him. 

When Bucky woke  the next morning, he expected to roll over and find their bed empty, the sheets cold from lack of body heat and Steve nowhere in sight. Instead, he flipped over to find a wall of muscle facing him and Steve sleeping with an expression so peaceful, he could’ve passed for sixteen again. Bucky had grown accustomed over the years to sleeping next to a human furnace, but after having gone so long without a warmth to cling onto, he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to Steve’s chest and forget about the world for a while. They’d both gone through enough that one more hour of serene isolation wouldn’t really hurt, right?

Bucky traced his finger along the curve of Steve’s cheek and then down across his jaw, mapping out the features he’d had memorized for years. He was beautiful; a combination of sharp angles mixed with graceful curves that came together in a masterpiece even Michelangelo couldn’t have fathomed. How the hell he’d let Hydra take away the memories of this man he loved more than life itself, he would never know. 

He ran a fingertip over the pink cupid’s bow of Steve’s upper lip, thinking about how much he’d love to kiss Steve awake like so many lazy mornings before, but pushed himself gently away from him instead. Sighing through his teeth, Bucky forced himself up onto his feet and towards the dresser, throwing on a sweater of his that he’d left up in their room after the fight to mingle with Steve’s clothes. He’d reasoned that if he couldn’t physically be there with him, maybe his clothes would be enough to suffice.

Only minutes later, Bucky found himself walking down the stairs, past the living room, and out the front door, wandering along the sidewalk with no idea where he was actually planning to go. Sure he knew this town backwards and forwards, especially after he’d scoured it tirelessly those first few months looking for Maggie, but it was the first time in a while where Bucky let himself completely surrender to where he feet wanted to lead him. He passed by the houses of neighbors that had helped lead search parties early on, the windows of businesses that had hung Missing Person signs with Maggie’s smiling face splattered across them. It felt as if the whole town was consumed by parts of Maggie’s memory and there was no way he could ever escape it. Somehow, that made him feel more helpless than when he dreamed of chasing that car down a never ending street. That had only been a nightmare.This...this was his reality. 

Bucky made his way through half the town that morning, and it seemed as if he would be able to walk forever until something caught his eye. Across the street from him, groups of people were milling out of what looked like a church, smiling as they gathered into their respective vehicles and pulled out of the parking lot. Briefly he wondered why there was a sudden mass exodus of people on this particular morning, but a quick look at the letterboard posted in the church’s front lawn reminded him that it was a Sunday. Jesus Christ, how long had it been since he’d known what day of the week it was? 

For a while, he watched as the groups of people leaving became smaller and smaller, and soon there was no one left coming out at all. He told himself that he’d been standing there long enough but instead of walking away down the street, his feet carried him straight to the church doors, leaving him looking dumbly at the wooden panels as if they were going to open for him. He didn’t know what the hell had possessed him to even cross the street in the first place, considering the fact that he’d never had the desire to enter a church before that moment, and surprised himself further as he began to make his way inside. 

It was a fairly old church from the look of it; the body of sanctuary was made of stone and the walls were punctuated every few feet by stained glass windows that showered brightly colored fragments of light upon the wooden pews below. Bucky vaguely remembered seeing stained glass similar to the ones in front of him, the ones in his mind from a church he used to go to with his family on Sunday mornings back in Brooklyn before the war. Back in the day, he’d gone to church with his family on a strict schedule and even though it bored him to pieces, he managed to keep himself in line. He went to bible school, studied his scripture passages, and genuinely believed that there was a God up there that would take care of all the world’s troubles. Even as he went off to war, he firmly had faith in the fact that there was a God above watching over them all. He had to, for all he’d been about to see; all the death and destruction that came with war, and the things he would have to do to survive it all. It wasn’t until he’d fallen off that goddamn freight car that his faith shifted. Sure, he’d doubted God before, but after what Hydra did him, after they made him into the monster they designed him to be… that’s when he realized that there wasn’t a goddamn thing that could save his soul. He decided it was better to believe in nothing than to believe that God could let something like that happen to him, and there wasn’t a damn thing that he wanted from a God like that. 

But yet, here he was. Making his way down the aisle until he stood at the foot of the altar, looking up at the cross that hung on the wall facing him and feeling smaller than ever. Between him and the cross, there was a statue of a woman with her hands placed together and her head bowed forward in prayer. The expression on her face was one of sadness, though not the pitying kind; it was the kind of sadness where you not only understand the pain someone else is going through, but you bear their pain with them. She seemed to stare down at him in the way a mother would at her child, wanting to take their pain away so that she could carry it instead, and something about it all made Bucky’s heart clench in his chest.

Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees before her and swallowed. The last time he had kneeled before anyone, he’d been a different man. A man who believed in something bigger than himself and was willing to surrender himself to it. However who he was today… he was a man that believed in almost nothing. He no longer believed in miracles or that he had a bigger purpose in the world, and he certainly didn’t believe that he deserved any forgiveness for the things he had done. He didn’t believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the fucking Easter Bunny; none of it. 

But as Bucky looked up at the woman, at her face so full of empathy for whoever came before her, his mouth dropped open and spilled whatever hope he had left at her feet. 

“Please… bring her back to us.” As soon as the words fell off of his tongue, it was like dam had burst from inside him. Every pent up emotion from the past year, from the past eighty years, flooded his body until he could barely contain himself and tears prickled his eyes from the force of it all.

He gasped, barely able to catch his breath, and spoke again in a voice wracked with grief.

“Please bring her back… I’ll-I’ll do anything. Just… bring her back to us.” 

It didn’t matter that he was falling apart in front of a stone statue. It didn’t matter that he would probably never set foot in this church again after this moment. All that mattered was someone up there, no matter what or whom it may be, heard his broken prayer for mercy and knew that if he ever meant one thing he said in his life, it was this.  

  
He was willing to believe in anything if it brought Maggie home.


	12. Two Years After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: nsfw content ahead  
> also special thanks to @daisyridlay on tumblr for beta-ing this chapter :))

 

Bucky was growing worried about Steve. Really worried. 

Ever since they’d reconciled the night of Bucky’s last serious nightmare, things had settled back into a normal routine and Bucky had almost started to feel like he wasn’t falling apart every second of the day. He’d gone back to sleeping in the same bed as Steve, and he was glad that it seemed like Steve was happy about having him around again too. Even Sam noticed the little shift in their moods, raising an eyebrow at them one morning as they walked down the stairs together hand in hand, but saying nothing as he handed them some cups of coffee as they made their way out the door. Steve himself didn’t particularly act all that different, but Bucky knew him well enough to tell that a kiss on the cheek or a hand on Bucky’s knee as they drove was an effort to make Bucky feel at ease. It was his way of saying “I forgive you”, and Bucky savored any forgiveness Steve gave him. 

Nat had stayed away for a while after Bucky and Steve’s blowout, presumably hanging out with Clint and keeping him out of trouble, and it was strange not having her around the house; not that he blamed her for leaving in the first place. When she showed up one evening with a bag out takeout in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, Bucky practically tackled her with a hug out of surprise, to which she kindly shoved him off and rolled her eyes teasingly. She handed the takeout to Steve, who hugged her and kissed her cheek, and then waltzed into their kitchen like she owned the place.  _ Huh, like she’d never even left _ . 

They all ended up drinking and eating themselves themselves into a stupor, going through that first bottle of wine and then continuing on with some beers Sam had brought over earlier in the week. None of them had really felt like drinking for a long time, and now that they had an excuse for it, there was almost nothing stopping them from getting shitfaced. Well, all except Steve that was. He stayed mostly sober throughout the entire ordeal, and ended up peeling Nat off the floor to take her to the guest room, Bucky and Sam laughing in a heap on the couch as Nat slurred every insult in the book at them from over Steve’s shoulder on her way up the stairs.

A few glasses of water and bag of cool ranch Doritos later, Sam settled himself into the couch cushions to go to sleep and Bucky, who had sobered up by that point, placed a bucket next to him just for good measure. He then went around the room and collected any empty cartons or stray bottles, tossing them in the trash before turning towards the stairs and startling a bit as he saw Steve standing at the end of them. Bucky opened his mouth to ask why he’d come back downstairs but before a word left his mouth, Steve slowly strolled over to him with a look that stole the breath from his lungs. He stood almost hypnotized by the expression on Steve’s face; the lazy bedroom look to his eyes and his tongue darting out to lick across his bottom lip. It wasn’t until Steve was flush up against him that Bucky snapped back to some form of reality. He was barely able to suck in a breath before Steve pressed a kiss to his mouth, and it stirred something in Bucky that had been laying dormant for longer than he could remember. Their lips slipped over each other almost drowsily, and Bucky let himself be pressed back against the kitchen counter, Steve lifting him up by his hips so that Bucky was now sitting on the marble countertop with Steve between his legs. Bucky felt a spark of confidence flash through him, briefly tugging on Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth and smiling a bit into their kiss as Steve let out a moan that went straight to Bucky’s crotch. He couldn’t recall the last time he and Steve had made out like a couple of lovesick teenagers, or the last time they had made out at all, but Bucky was too distracted by the way Steve’s tongue was dancing around his own to dwell on it too much.

At some point, they eventually made their way upstairs, Bucky vaguely remembering Steve carrying him up the stairs before lying him down across their sheets and looking at Bucky like he wanted to fuck the living shit out of him. Bucky felt a white hot need pool in his abdomen, and it burned just beneath his skin as Steve began to tug Bucky’s sweatshirt over his head, watching Steve through half-lidded eyes as he was undressed. Tossing the sweatshirt onto the floor, Steve bent down over Bucky and pressed their lips together again, this time the feeling of their kiss shifting into something more urgent, more explosive, and Bucky was hardly prepared for when Steve began directing his kisses south. He let out a breathless whimper as Steve skimmed over his jawline, sucking on his neck just long enough to leave a wicked hickey before ghosting down over his chest and teasing one of Bucky’s nipples with a gentle tug of his teeth. By the time Steve had licked his way down to Bucky’s navel, Bucky could feel himself throbbing against the suddenly uncomfortable fabric of his jeans, and he let out a sigh of relief as Steve undid his zipper. Slowly, his jeans were pulled off of his hips, and a warm breath over the obvious bulge in his underwear soon replaced them. Bucky’s moan caught in his throat as he felt the band of his underwear being dragged over his pelvic bone, Steve using his teeth to remove that last barrier between his mouth and Bucky’s manhood, and it didn’t take long before Bucky completely lost himself on Steve’s tongue. 

The rest of that night consisted of messy sheets, lots of sweat and very little sleep, so when Bucky woke up to his usual 7am alarm, the only thing he wanted to do was put his metal arm to good use and smash the goddamn clock into pieces. He had half a mind to go through with it before he forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the soreness he felt radiating from his hips. The pain was familiar, and it wasn’t particularly upsetting so much as a reminder, but Bucky still grimaced as he made his way into the shower, forgetting how much his ass would hurt after having Steve’s hands on it all night. Though, he wasn’t complaining about that. 

As Bucky massaged some shampoo through his hair, he pondered if Sam was already up and waiting for them downstairs, coffee at the ready like always. He doubted it, if only for the fact that he’d known Sam to have some nasty hangovers and didn’t think this morning would be an exception. Bucky wondered if he and Steve would have the time to stop by a Starbucks before heading out on the road for the day, and also considered if they should let Nat tag along if she was at all coherent. Before he could calculate how much time they had to waste, a pair of hands smoothed over his sides from behind and caused Bucky to jump out of his skin. 

“Hey…” Steve chuckled, tucking his chin into the curve of Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s just me.”

It took Bucky a moment to get his shit together before sagging back against Steve and letting his heart rate slow to a normal place. “Fuckin hell, Stevie.”

Steve bent his head to press a kiss into Bucky’s slick skin. “Sorry, I forgot we hadn’t done this in a while.” 

“Yeah…” Bucky sighed a bit, thinking about how little they’d touched each other since Maggie went missing and feeling a bit guilty about it. There had been times before their fight when they had tried being intimate again, and usually Steve was the one who initiated it, pressing up against Bucky as they laid down for bed, or running a hand up the back of his shirt to trace his spine. Bucky had shrugged him off more often than not, too upset to even think about sex at the time, and even though Steve had taken it in stride, Bucky couldn’t help but feel like a shit husband. Sometimes he forgot that Steve was hurting just as much as he was, and a knot grew in his stomach at how self centered he’d been acting. 

So when Bucky felt Steve’s hand slide down over his hip and around the curve of his ass, he let himself surrender to how good it felt instead of stepping away. The water fell across their shoulders in burning rivulets, only adding to the heat that was beginning to spark between them, and Bucky had to brace a hand against the shower wall to keep himself upright. It wasn’t completely unusually for them to fuck more than once in a day, the serum in both of them had heightened their limbidos, but after being out of practice for so many months, Bucky was having a difficult time adjusting to the amount of pleasure pulsing through him. Steve’s fingers searching steadily inside him coupled with the dirty little comments being whispered in his ear were enough to bring him to the edge within only minutes, and as Steve rubbed against the spot he’d been looking for with gentle fingertips, Bucky spilled all over himself with a bitten-off cry. 

At some point they found the time to get dressed and hit the road in search of Maggie, and managed to keep their hands off of each other long enough to search through an entire metropark a few towns over. Bucky’s mind had cleared by that point, sobered by the thought of Maggie being lost out there somewhere and wondering why they weren’t coming to save her. He kept his thoughts focused on her only as the sky slowly faded to a burnt orange. It was almost twilight as they pulled into their driveway back home with McDonald’s in tow, but almost as soon as they’d stepped into their house, Steve pulled them both down onto the couch and Bucky was riding him within minutes. In the back of his mind, Bucky knew something wasn’t completely right with the whole scenario, a little red light flashing in warning, but it was flicked off with every orgasm he had on Steve’s lap. It was just make-up sex, he reasoned, and soon enough he and Steve would go back to their regular routine. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge Steve for a little longer if it meant strengthening their relationship in the long run.

It wasn’t until after the third morning that Bucky put his foot down. Steve had been pressed against Bucky’s back the entire night, and when their alarm went off he began to roll his hips against Bucky’s instead of moving out of bed. Bucky wanted to do anything other than push him away, but he couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of his head screaming that this wasn’t right. Something was off and it had been for quite some time. He squirmed away from Steve’s hands, causing Steve to tense up behind him, and the playful air between them suddenly cooled. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve’s voice sounded concerned, like he’d done something to hurt Bucky and Bucky’s heart broke just from hearing it. 

He took a moment to sit up, and turned around to face Steve before answering, choosing his words carefully. “I think...I think we need to cool it with the sex for a while.”

Steve was silent, but his face said everything Bucky needed to know. His brows pulled together as his eyes clouded with embarrassment, and he turned his face away from Bucky as he sat up to join him. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. That’s not-” Bucky cut himself off with a sigh. “I just think that we should take a break so we can focus on looking for Maggie.” 

Steve fisted his hands in his lap, the tips of his ears growing red. “We  _ have _ been looking for her.”

“Not as much as we should be. There’s still places we haven’t looked and I think-”

“You think what?” Bucky startled at the almost defensive tone to Steve’s voice. He thought Steve might be embarrassed about it all, not angry, and something about that made Bucky’s stomach clench in anxiety. 

There were a few moments of silence before Bucky spoke, his voice cutting through the tense air between them like a butter knife. “I think that we’re using sex as a distraction.”

Steve huffed. “You mean,  _ I’m  _ using sex as a distraction.”

“Steve, I didn’t say that-”

“You didn’t have to.” With that, Steve stood and made his way into the bathroom. Bucky desperately wanted to follow him, to try and fix this because they had just gotten out of a fight and he couldn’t bear to be in one again. He was almost about to go through with it, but stopped when he heard Steve say under his breath, “Jesus Christ, am I not allowed to miss my goddamn husband?” 

That phrase stuck with Bucky for the next couple of days. He and Steve still slept in the same bed, though a few feet apart, and they still went out looking for Maggie like they’d been doing for years, but their dynamic had shifted. It wasn’t enough that anyone outside of them would have noticed, but it was enough to make Bucky worried. At first the changes were minute; Steve would take slightly longer to get ready in the mornings, and would sometimes sleep in longer than Bucky would’ve liked, enough to cause some annoyance but not enough to bring it up in conversation. Then Steve started sleeping in more and more, until some days he decided he didn’t feel well enough to go out looking at all. Bucky didn’t push at him, ignoring all instincts that said to do otherwise, and reluctantly took to driving alone. He knew Sam would stay at home with Steve and phone him if anything went wrong, but it still didn’t feel right without Steve beside him. It never felt right without Steve beside him. The days that Steve stayed in bed soon turned into weeks, and with each one that passed the pile of worry in Bucky’s stomach grew tenfold. He kept shoving it down, trying to contain it within himself so that it wouldn’t overflow, and patched up every leak in his dam with bandaids until it felt like he could burst. He should’ve known it was only a matter of time before he would fall apart from the pressure, but he couldn’t allow himself to think there might be a day when all hell would break loose. 

Until it did. 

Bucky didn’t know why he'd decided to pick a fight that particular morning, but everything seemed to be getting on his last nerve. He woke up to find Steve already gone from their bed, sparking a little flame of hope inside him that this might be the day he’d finally get back on his feet, but glared at the coat still hanging on their closet door. Bucky angrily threw on his clothes and made his way down the stairs, frowning as he saw Steve sitting at the kitchen table with a blanket thrown over his shoulders and a coffee mug in his hands. He looked almost empty inside, barely blinking as Bucky plundered into the room, and staring down at his coffee cup with an expression so dejected it brought Bucky’s mood down even further.

Bucky sighed a bit louder than necessary as he grabbed a mug from the cupboard, avoiding the  _ #2 Dad _ mug that had been shoved as far away from the front as possible, and finished off what was left of the coffee. Still no response came from Steve, and it only fueled the anger brewing just under Bucky’s skin. He walked over to the fridge, opening the door harshly as he asked Steve in a biting voice, “So, are you planning on coming today?”

No response. 

Bucky grabbed the milk carton with his left hand and for a moment; he didn’t care whether or not he crushed it in his palm. His gaze slipped back to where Steve sat, hoping to see at least some kind of reaction from him, but there Steve sat with his eyes steadily trained on the mug in front of him. 

Bucky closed the fridge door with a bang. “Are you giving up then?”

At that, Steve winced. Bucky waited for him to say more but Steve remained silent, almost as though Bucky wasn’t even there. Bucky wanted to scream at him, to get in his face and yell, but instead he just stood there fuming. If Steve wasn’t going to talk, he would damn sure listen.

“This isn’t the Steve Rogers I know.” Bucky’s hand gripped the milk tighter as he spoke. “The Steve Rogers I know didn’t just give up when things got hard. He never gave up, not even when he was getting the shit kicked out of him.”

“Buck..” Steve’s soft voice broke through his speech at that moment, but Bucky couldn’t stop. The words just kept tumbling out of his mouth like vomit: putrid and mean. 

“The Steve Rogers I know fought until he was blacked out in some alley, and even then he’d go back for more.” Bucky let out a bark of cruel laughter. “I should know. I’m the one who usually picked him up off the goddamn pavement.”

Steve flinched away from him after that, and it only further spurred Bucky’s tirade. He took a step closer to Steve, vibrating from the effort of trying to keep himself from boiling over and he wanted nothing more than to shake Steve until he realized how stupid he was acting. Steve had to listen to him- he had to.

“She’s our  _ daughter _ , Steve." Bucky’s voice took on a pleading tone, almost bordering on begging. "We can’t just hole up in the house and wallow in self pity while she’s out there wondering why we aren’t coming to get her. She needs us, she needs you-”

Steve closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath. “Bucky. Stop.” 

“We have to keep looking for her. There are places we still haven’t checked, people we still haven’t spoken to-”

“Shut up.” Steve muttered darkly into his coffee. “Just, shut up.”

The anger inside Bucky bubbled to a dangerous temperature, pushing against him like a kettle about to blow and his voice rose to a pitch that was painful even to his own ears. ““You can’t just sit on your ass while Maggie is still out there!”

“Bucky. Shut.  _ Up _ .”

“No! I’m not just gonna let you give up on her!”

A crash sounded throughout their kitchen as Steve slammed his mug down on their kitchen table, effectively breaking it into a thousand pieces, and he fixed a fiery look at where Bucky stood. “Why the  _ fuck  _ do you care? You didn’t even want her in the first place!”

Bucky froze at Steve’s words, pinned in place by the sheer horror gripping him. There was no way that sentence had come out of Steve’s mouth; Steve would never say something like that to him. Ever. Bucky waited for him to take it back, but Steve just stood there glowering in his direction, his face an unwavering mask of contempt. It was a scary expression on him, darkening the blue in his eyes to a storming navy, and for a moment Bucky didn’t recognize him. 

He thought back to when they’d first discussed even the thought of having Maggie, and remembered all the doubt he’d felt. He hadn’t been sure if he could be a dad, much less a good one, and the idea scared the shit out of him, but as soon as Maggie came into the world, every single one of his doubts faded away. Bucky loved Maggie more than anything else on this goddamn planet, and Steve knew that. Steve  _ knew _ that, and yet he still flung that dagger of a sentence straight into Bucky’s heart. 

He took in a pained breath. “Maybe… Maybe we need a break.”

The suggestion hung in the tense air between them, awaiting an answer that was already known in it’s asking.  

  
Steve barely flinched at his words, a perfect statue. “Yeah. Maybe we do.”


	13. Two Years and Three Weeks After

Bucky hadn’t spoken to Steve in three weeks. No phone calls, no text messages. Nothing. It wasn’t what Bucky expected when he proposed a break, but it was probably better that way all the same.

After their argument, Bucky shoved some belongings into a backpack and marched out of their house without a specific destination in mind. He hadn’t really been thinking rationally; he just wanted to be as far away from Steve as possible. The pain of Steve’s words still throbbed underneath Bucky’s skin, and it only seemed to grow with every step he took. It was like a parasite, writhing and festering until it began to consume him from the inside out. He reasoned that vomiting each time he passed a trash can wasn’t helping either.

Sam found him around mid afternoon, walking cautiously to where Bucky sat on a bench alongside of the street. It was a few minutes before Bucky realized Sam was there with him, and he glanced up to see the other man kneeling in front of him. Sam looked tired, the expression aging him, and Bucky’s stomach clenched with guilt. He knew the entire experience had taken a toll on Sam just as much as it had on both him and Steve; not to mention that Sam also had the task of trying to keep what was left of their family from falling apart. It had to be draining, dropping everything and rushing to their aid at any time of day. Bucky wanted to tell Sam to just leave him there, that he’d done more than enough, but instead he remained silent as Sam helped him to his feet. The silence continued through their walk to Sam’s car, and then from the ride to Sam’s apartment. Bucky couldn’t even force himself to speak as Sam helped him into the guest bed. His mouth was glued shut by the fear that if he opened it he would either vomit or scream, and neither option sounded appealing.

The next couple of days were a blur. Bucky wasn’t completely sure if he ever left that bedroom, but if he had it must’ve been only to drink water or relieve himself. All he could focus on was the wall opposite him, eyes trained on a crack in the muted green plaster. He imagined that crack growing larger and larger until swallowed the entire room, consuming him and everything else in its path. Maybe he’d finally be granted the death he deserved after all this time; Lord knows he had cheated death more than his fair share.

Sometimes he’d have memories of Maggie, and they picked away at his heart like vultures to a carcass. She’d be running over to him after school let out for the day, a giant smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around his legs. Then she’d be curled asleep on his lap as they watched The Little Mermaid come to an end for the millionth time.

The worst memories were of Steve and Maggie together. It was double the torture, since he now had lost them both. His stomach would twist every time their faces scorched across his mind, and his head almost felt aflame from the pain of it all. The memories would appear in succession, a film reel of torture that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from and bits of his heart shattered with each one that passed. He was screaming for release somewhere in his zombie-like state, a version of himself begging for release and pounding his fists against the empty shell he had become.

Most of the images that circled around him were in black and white, but there was one scene that washed him in technicolor. It was of him and Steve walking down a sidewalk, one of Maggie’s hands in each of theirs as they wandered in the afternoon light. He recognized it as the week before Maggie’s birthday party and felt his entire body clench from the reality of what was to come. They swung Maggie between them as they walked, and each time she would giggle and request they do it once more time. Steve turned to smile at the Bucky in the memory, and his expression sent a punch to Bucky’s stomach. He looked...happy. Happy in a way that he hadn’t seen Steve in over two years and it was enough to make him sick.

Bucky leaned over the side of the guest bed, vomiting bile onto the carpet below him. It was the first time he’d moved in a couple of days, and his body felt like dead weight hanging off the side of the mattress. Sam must’ve heard Bucky dry heaving from downstairs because the next thing he recalled was a wet rag wiping at the corners of his mouth. He blinked up at where he presumed Sam to be and was surprised to see a relieved expression on his face.

“Hey, man… glad to see you’re still alive in there.” Sam cracked a small grin, but the light in his eyes dimmed a bit as Bucky stared back at him wordlessly. “Well, I hope you’re still alive, at least.”

A dangerous question teetered on the edge of Bucky’s thoughts. _What if I don’t want to be alive anymore?_

It was almost scary to think about saying it aloud, even if he had been contemplating the idea for the past few weeks. He’d dismissed the thought completely at the beginning Maggie’s disappearance because if he killed himself, there would be one less person looking for her. Also, he couldn’t bear to think of leaving Steve alone in the world when he promised him that they were together till the end.

_“‘Till the end of the line, pal.”_

 Bucky didn’t want to think it could be possible, but what if this was the end? What if this was the end of the line for them? He and Steve had gone through so much together, and just when they finally had the chance to settle down into a normal life, everything crumbled. Maybe soulmates are supposed to be tragic, finding each other for a only moment before being torn apart again.  Everyone acts like Romeo and Juliet were overdramatic, but Shakespeare got one thing right. Sometimes death feels like the only suitable answer to heartbreak.

Sam let out a quiet sigh at Bucky’s silence and stood again, mumbling something about going to grab shit to clean up Bucky’s mess. However, Bucky croaked out a phrase that made him pause.

“What if Steve and I are done?”

On Steve’s name, Bucky’s voice cracked and it was almost a vocalization of his heart snapping at the thought. Saying it out loud was worse than it had sounded in his head, but the fact that Sam wasn’t saying anything intensified Bucky’s anxiety tenfold. He knew that Sam was still in contact with Steve and if he had said anything to Sam about Bucky, he could tell it wasn’t good from Sam’s reaction. Bucky had no idea he was hyperventilating from the idea of him and Steve actually splitting up until Sam had him by the shoulders, telling him to _‘please fucking breathe, Buck’_.

It took him a few minutes to calm down, Sam coaching him the whole way and when he was finished, he slumped down on the edge of the mattress. Closing his eyes briefly, he took a couple breaths himself. “Do you know why you’re at my place?”

Bucky hesitated. “Because you feel sorry for me?’

“Well, yeah, there’s that.” Sam smirked a little. “But that’s been going on for a few years now, bud.”

He snorted at Bucky’s glare, and then became serious once more as the playful mood cooled. Looking pensively at the wall opposite him, at that same little crack Bucky had stared at earlier, Sam said, “Steve asked me to promise him something.”

“What was it?”

Sam glanced back at him, eyes growing sad with the weight of what he was about to say. “He asked me to take care of you if he couldn’t anymore.”

Bucky could only stare at Sam for the next few moments as he tried to process exactly what that meant. A few more passed before he could even force himself to speak. “Does he know I’m here?”

“Yeah…” Sam let out another gentle sigh and absentmindedly rubbed at the fabric of his pant leg. “He called about an hour after you left, he said. Asked me to go looking for you”

Bucky swallowed. He couldn’t believe that Steve actually called Sam after everything he’d said that morning. Before that moment, Bucky had been under the impression that he and Steve finally met their expiration date. Now he could see a glimmer of hope on the horizon.

Well, only until it was squashed by Sam asking, “Do you want to go talk to him?”

Remembering the last exchange they had felt like Steve personally showed up to punch Bucky in the stomach. Weeks had gone by, and yet the sting of Steve’s words still felt fresh and raw to Bucky’s touch. He weighed some options in his mind, feeling like a judge and jury all at once. He could go to see Steve and try to talk through the situation, or he could walk away from everything to save him further heartbreak.

Bucky took a breath as he decided. “No… I don’t think I’m ready to see him yet.”

Sam seemed to accept Bucky’s answer and stood from the bed with a nod. He paused like he had something more he wanted to add, maybe a sentiment about how seeing Steve might help, but the phone downstairs rang before he had the chance. Sam mumbled something under his breath about needing to get that, and a few seconds later, Bucky was alone again.

He was tired of feeling alone.


End file.
